Diary of a Lusty Gentleman
by EpitomeofDistraction
Summary: Draco is in love with Harry Potter, but faces a few obstacles in getting his way. Slash, het, sexual content. HarryXDraco
1. Chapter 1

Diary of a Lusty Gentleman

by Epitome of Distraction

Disclaimer: All characters, places, and whatever else you can recognize as J. K. Rowling's is J. K. Rowling's. Please don't sue me.

Chapter One

Once upon a time, there was a boy who lived. _The_ boy who lived. At age one, he survived an attack from the Dark Lord. Ten years later, he thwarted him from returning to power. The next year, he saved a girl from Slytherin's monster. Just over a year after that, he competed against three schools' finest in a famous tournament and won. The next two years were spent saving people's lives, having hidden dealings with the Ministry of Magic, and going off on grand adventures. People absolutely loved him. And why shouldn't they? He was talented, he was brave, he was selfless and noble. What wasn't to love?

"Stupid Harry Potter," grumbled Draco Malfoy as he trudged down the corridor, flanked, as always, by Crabbe and Goyle. "Everybody thinks he's so great. He's not!"

The two bulky Slytherins following the currently-ranting slim one exchanged looks, rolling their eyes, each thinking the same thing: off on this again, is he? Malfoy remained oblivious to what he would surely think of as the impudent thoughts of his companions, crushing that day's Daily Prophet roughly in his hand as he continued on his way to dinner. "All the professors adore him. Even the headmaster, though he always was a nutter. I mean, why should he get special treatment? Everybody else in this school works just as hard as him. He's not even that smart! And don't even get me started on that scar..."

They rounded the corner, walking straight into none other than Harry Potter himself. Draco started, but regained composure quickly. "What about my scar, Malfoy?" Harry said venomously. The raven-haired boy stood with his arms crossed, leaning casually against the wall, facing Malfoy. Draco had the brief impression the Gryffindor Golden Boy had been waiting for him to appear. He was alone, which was of itself odd, but seemed to add to the suspicion he'd been expecting them. Draco pushed the thought from his mind, writing it off to paranoia.

"It's none of your business what I say to my friends, Potter." He spat the last word, as he had practiced to perfection. Harry pushed himself off the wall and dropped his arms, hand casually straying to the pocket that held his wand. Draco followed suit. He stared pointedly at Draco for a moment, making Draco want to hurl himself at him, then ripped his eyes away and made to push past him.

"I suppose you're right, it is none of my business." He strode two paces, then turned around to face him again. "And I don't particularly care what you think, Draco m'dear. Now, if you'll excuse me, I would like to get down to dinner before it ends." He disappeared down the corridor the Slytherins had just come from.

Draco stared after him for a moment, regaining his equilibrium. He ordered Crabbe and Goyle down to dinner without him, fleeing down the opposite hall as soon as they were out of sight. He quickly made his way to the nearest bathroom, which was mercifully empty, and locked the door after him. Now, finally, alone, he sank down on the wall, exhaling deeply.

His heart beat was faster than any race-horse's, his body tingling with the familiar foreign sensation he wasn't sure if he liked, his stomach wrapping itself into little knots. All this just because he had seen Harry. And Harry had said his name! Oh, glorious day! wonderful life! his name had touched those forbidden lips!

Now a great deal more under control (only his stomach was tingling now), Draco went into each of the stalls flushed every toilet: the way he called that ghost, Myrtle. He slid down the wall again and waited for her to come. Within a minute, she appeared, popping suddenly out of a toilet. She floated over to him.

"Hello there, Draco. You called?" she said, her voice not quite so whiny as it had been when they had first met a little over a year ago.

"I saw him just now," he replied, not bothering with the unnecessary formalities. "On the way to dinner. I was talking bad about him to those idiots, and I turned the corner, and there he was. We exchanged our usual "I-hate-you"s, and he went on his way."

The ghost floated a little closer. "What else happened? You're trying to hide it but you're really happy about something. I can tell. I know you well enough now, you know." She smirked and drifted higher.

Draco looked up at her, a forced look of disgusted on his face. Dropping his head, he gave in. "He said my name," he mumbled into his sleeve.

Moaning looked surprised. "Oh! Really? What exactly did he say? I know you can remember, Draco, so don't bother pretending you can't."

He didn't. "He said, 'I don't particularly care what you think, Draco m'dear.' And then he left." Draco blushed slightly reliving it, his uncharacteristic smile barely suppressed by his pride.

"Oh, yay! That's fantastic! Well, I suppose it's not good that he doesn't care what you think, but what he said..." she clapped her hands together and sighed. "It's so romantic."

Draco shot her a look that clearly stated he thought she was absolutely mental, then rested his head back on his arms. The image of Harry leaning up against the wall looking so smug played itself in his mind. Oh, what he wouldn't give to wipe that look off the grand hero's face, to have the boy writhing and mewling beneath his lips. To make him completely submissive under his touch. And to do it all in a no-holds-barred snogging session.

That would be just lovely.

"Perhaps he does fancy you," Moaning Myrtle said pensively. Draco snorted. "I know you think he hates so , but that's what he thinks about you, isn't it? You can't rule it out that he may be as good an actor as you."

Draco tuned out her voice. He'd heard all this before. What Draco really wanted was for Moaning Myrtle, the wretched, blessed ghost, to spy on Harry, to find his secrets. Just so Draco could feel a bit closer to him. He sighed. Blimey, he had it bad. That stupid Potter boy was all he could think of. Day and night, haunting his mind, not giving a moment's rest. And it might not be that bad if there was any chance that the crush was reciprocated, but, of course, with girls practically throwing themselves naked at his feet, why would the boy who lived even bother with someone as stuck up and rude as Draco?

Oh, and all of this not to mention Harry didn't like boys. Of course, neither did Draco. Girls were definately his partiality, but, though he didn't understand it at all, Draco was more attracted to his arch-enemy than any other living thing ever to walk the earth. And wasn't that just dandy?

What about that brief suspicion that Harry had been there to intercept the Slytherins? Was it paranoia, or a false hope? He knew Harry thought he, Draco, was always "up to something;" if Harry had heard rumors that "something" might happen, he would most likely turn the blame to Malfoy. Then again, if Harry _did_, by some unknown force of nature or magic, find his own enemy as irresistible as the Slytherin found him, then he would want to have as much contact as possible. And, as they say, negative attention is still attention, so their arguing may not be so bad after all.

Ah, who was he kidding? They ran into each other because they lived in the same castle, purely coincidental, no hidden meaning behind it. Harry did not like Draco, in any sense of it.

But of course—

"Draco? Draco! Are you even listening?" the high-pitched voice of the hovering girl broke into his reverie.

"You claim to know me so well; shouldn't you know the answer to that?" he drawled sarcastically, glancing up at her. She rose a few feet in indignation.

"Fine. You obviously don't need me. I'll go then." She turned to the nearest stall.

"Alright fine, go. But first one thing." She turned back to him from just inside the stall, her transparent arms crossed. "Can I ask you to please watch him for the next few days? I heard some people talking in the common room, I think they're going to try something."

She looked skeptically as him for a moment, then whirled around saying haughtily, "I'll think about it" and dived headfirst into the toilette.

It might have been wrong to lie like that, but Draco just wanted information. He knew she wanted to help, and would be appealed to by the supposed caring reason behind it; he also knew she was an incorrigible gossip and would let slip anything good.

Draco stood up, muttering "Alohomora." Might as well get down to dinner.


	2. Chapter 2

Diary of a Lusty Gentleman

by Epitome of Distraction

Disclaimer: All characters, places, and whatever else you can recognize as J. K. Rowling's is J. K. Rowling's. Please don't sue me.

IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE- PLEASE READ! This chapter is much, _much_ more risque than the previous chapter. If you are uncomfortable with sexual content in a story, don't read this!

Chapter Two

The next day, Draco found himself in Defense Against the Dark Arts, zoning out from Snape's monotonous lecture and doodling initials and hearts with a quill bewitched to send whatever was written with it to a special notebook locked safely away in his trunk. The quill really was quite useful. If Draco came across a spell or potion he wanted to remember, he could just grab a newspaper or spare bit of parchment and scribble it down. Or if he thought of a new way to torture an annoyance, he could make a note on his napkin as he ate lunch. And then, of course, there was the current use...

Draco took a break to glance at the clack. Ugh, twenty-five minutes to go. He turned back around and banged his arm sprawled across the table. Though he would _never_ say it aloud, Draco thought Snape was one of the most boring professors ever was: his voice never changed, his face always expressionless, he gave out boring homework assignments, and he was too powerful and well-connected (to Draco's father, namely) to be able to prank. Worst of all, HIS LECTURES WERE SO DULL! Draco didn't even know what this particular one Snape was giving out currently was about. From the snippets he had heard maybe... conjuring severed animal heads? Ah, who knew? And more to the point, who cared? Certainly not Draco; he had more pressing matters on his mind.

Draco had lain awake half the night last night, thinking on what had happened and what he could do about it. At exactly 2:37 a.m., he had come up with the plan he was going to put into action in twenty-three minutes. If he could survive that long.

"...problem with partial invertebrate conjuring is the lack of structure usually supplied by the skeletal features," Snape paused to look around the room. Seeing most of the class asleep, he said, "And I'm sure you'll all love to tell me all about it in a 22-inch essay. Due Monday. Class is dismissed." The groans that had arisen at the mention of homework were replaced with surprised muttering and shocked expressions. Snape _never_ let a class out early. It was completely uncharacteristic. The heavy shuffling of books and parchment being returned to their bags and the scraping of chairs being pushed in crescendoed as the rush to leave the class-room came. Not wanting to miss Harry, who was already out the door with his buddies, Draco unceremoniously dumped his possessions into his bag and dashed across the room, weaving around desks and classmates alike.

Draco followed the herd of students, keeping an eye on Harry. The Golden Trio turned down a corridor, leaving the main of the group, just as Draco had seen them do after every DADA class, presumably headed for some shortcut they knew of. Now was Draco's chance. As the rest of the class disappeared down another hallway, Draco mustered up his courage and shouted, "Hey, Potter!"

The trio turned, looking mildly surprised. Draco heard the heavy footsteps of Crabbe and Goyle, whom he had left behind in the class, as they hurried to find him. "About last night," he said, drawing closer to Harry. The raven-haired boy seemed for a second to blanch. His friends looked questioningly at him. "Don't you _ever_ say my first name again. I don't want some filthy half-blood disgracing my beautiful name. Got it?"

Harry looked over Draco's shoulder as Crabbe and Goyle came to the intersection of corridors, spotted their target, and started for him. Harry turned a steely gaze back at Draco and said, "Whatever you say...Malfoy," and turned pointedly around and started walking away. Weasley and Granger quickly followed.

Draco watched them go, cloaks flicking around the corner, wishing he had gotten more time with the object of his infatuation. Goyle spoke up from where he stood beside him panting. "Why'd ya ditch us, Malfoy?" He wasn't angry, just curious. Moronic plebeians. Blundering simpletons. Without acknowledging that the other boy had spoken, he whirled around and strode off in the direction of the dungeons, the two others close behind.

Five minutes later, Draco climbed through the hole to the common room. The raucous laughter of his fellow Slytherins greeted him. Damn it, he'd forget it was Friday. Draco wasn't in the mood for a loud party. No, he needed something loud to get his mind off things. Okay, maybe this was good. "Draco!" His fellow Slytherin Blaise Zabini waved to him from the couch at the far end of the common room, each arm around a different girl, both practically on top of him. "Draco! Grab a fire-whiskey and get over here!"

Draco sighed inwardly and resigned himself to a night of idiocy and noise. He was about to head for the drink table when an arm around his waist and a low, seductive voice in his ear stopped him. "Here you go, sexy," Pansy Parkinson whispered, handing him a bottle. "I got one for you."

Draco smirked and faced her. "Thanks, babe," he said, kissing her. He looked down at her. "What're you wearing?"

She smiled and stepped back so he could examine her. "What do you think of it?" It was just sent this morning." She was wearing an incredibly small silver mini-skirt, dragon skin, by the look of it, and a green leather belt with a prominent silver buckle. She wore a flimsy silver shirt with a green plaid pattern across her breasts and again at the bottom of her long sleeves; it showed a tantalizing amount of midriff. And she wore on her feet sparkling silver stilettos with a thin green strap across the ankle. "Like it?" she asked.

'Damn,' Draco thought, looking her up and down. 'Look at all that leg. "Love it, doll. You're god-damn sexy." She squealed and flung her arms around his neck, pressing her lips against his. After she let go, Draco placed his arm over her shoulders, her arm going around his waist again, and strode over to an armchair by Zabini. He plopped into it, tossing his bag to Crabbe to put in the dormitory. Pansy sat down gracefully in his lap, looping her arms around his neck and draping her legs crossed over the arm or the chair, her lightly tanned smooth legs practically glistening in the candle-chandelier's light. With the hand not around Pansy's back, Draco brought the already-open bottle to his lips and drank.

When he was done, he turned to Zabini, who was nibbling at the girl-on-his-right's ear, and said, "So, Zabini, what's the good word?"

Without looking up, he answered, "Well, I've got a massive hard-on brewing, and two hot ladies to choose from." The girls giggled, girl-on-the-left playing with his hair and running a finger up his thigh while girl-on-the-right fingered the top button of his shirt.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'd rather have one first-rate hottie than two second-class nothings," Draco declared smugly, mostly for Pansy's reaction. She let out a sound of approval and started kissing and suckling on his neck.

"Oh Draco, you're just jealous." Blaise turned his head and stared playing with girl-on-the-left's earing with his tongue. "You've only got one girl, where's the fun in that? Meanwhile, I've got two, both ready to do my bidding." He looked up, smirking, then glanced at both girls. "Speaking of which, I'd like to see some bras out on this table right now, please."

Draco stroked Pansy's side and took another swig of fire-whiskey. When he looked back, both girls were tossing their bras shamelessly onto the table by Zabini's crossed ankles. Both girls, either to hide themselves from others or to further arouse Blaise, pressed themselves up against him. He pushed girl-on-the-right away a bit, pulling out the neck of her shirt and gazing in. "Nice," he murmured, then turned to the other girl and repeated the procedure. "Very nice." He wrapped an arm around both and pulled them to him, looking up at Draco. "We've got some fine lookin' things here at Hogwarts, Draco m'boy."

"I quite agree," he replied, mind flashing momentarily to Harry. "But it seems you've got a problem. Which one of these bra-less babes are you going to allow the pleasure of being brought back up to our dormitory?"

"Well, that depends," he answered, kissing one on the cheek. "Let's look at the categories. First, let's have a look under those shirts again, shall we?" He pulled on the shirts again, peering into each for a few moments before looking up again. "Okay, moving on. Stand up, both of you. Face me; that's it. Now, who can bend the farthest backward; I want to see how flexible you are." The girls bent back, holding their shirts up to keep them from falling over their heads, their crotches sticking out to Zabini, who smirked widely at the sight.

"You're a dirty pervert, Zabini, you really are," Draco laughed, shaking his head. Pansy looked down momentarily at the girls before turning back to nipping at Draco's jawline.

Zabini laughed, "Don't you know it. Alright ladies, you can stand up. Good. Now, the third test: kissing. Get back down here." he patted the seats on either side of him. "This is kinda self-explanitory. Let's start with you." He turned to girl-on-the-right and dove in. Pansy took the opportunity to grab Draco's attention.

"Draco, baby, are you going to be busy tonight? I've got something special for you." She traced a finger down his chest suggestively.

Draco took another gulp of his fire-whiskey. "Does it involve covering up these sexy legs of yours?" He ran his up one to emphasize his point.

"No. In fact," she took hold of the hand on her thigh. "I was thinking we might get to show a bit more of them." She pushed his hand until his fingertips were nudging under her skirt.

He smirked as he started to harden, images of what she had in mind coming to him. "Ahh. I think that can be arranged." He pulled his fingers back out to aggravate her. She smiled playfully and pushed his hand even farther up. He wiggled his fingers slightly and leaned to whisper in her ear. "But maybe not if that's how far my fingers get to go." She jerked his hand up until he was touching the string of her thong. He twisted his fingers in it and began touching her tongue with his, but pulled his head back when he heard Zabini talking again. It was always entertaining to watch the boy at work.

Blaise was slightly flushed when he started up again. "Full marks to you both. And bonus points to _you_ for the lovely flavor of chapstick." He cleared his throat. "And now, my favorite bit. Who's the wildest. I like my girls to be a little mad, if you know what I mean, so now we have to see who'll do the most unrestrained, uproarious showing. We'll start with you." He nodded at girl-on-the-left, who immediately flung her leg over a surprised but please Blaise's lap, pushing the other girl away, and unbuttoned his shirt, flinging it to the side, rolling her hips all the while, eliciting dull groans from both parties. She then jumped off him, grabbed a jar of Master Mood's All-Purpose Sexy-Hot Chocolate Sauce from her bag, and began smearing it over his chest. Chuckling merrily, Zabini stopped her. "Alright, that's enough. Let's wait until the bedroom before that, but I like the idea." He turned to girl-on-the-right. "Your turn."

Draco glanced down at Pansy, who had ceased her scrutiny of his neck. She appeared rather annoyed. "Probably because I'm paying more attention to these idiots than to her," he thought. As the girl-on-the-left started what looked like a strip on the table, Pansy adjusted herself on his lap, buried her head in his neck, and unfastened herself the button of his slacks. He started, his attention fully transferred to her. "Pansy," he said, quickly regaining his composure. "Are you really that impatient?" His voice was full of arrogant charm.

She slowly pulled down his zipper. "Yes," she mumbled into the crook of his neck. "You turn me on. Let's beat Blaise to your dormitory."

Draco mumbled an incantation under his breath. Pansy's wrists glued themselves together. "You are a naughty girl. Unfortunately for you, Zabini's already called the use of the dormitory for tonight. We can't use it. That wouldn't be polite." He zipped his pants back up. "Not to mention I have other plans this evening. Don't worry," he added when she looked up in surprise. "I'm not seeing any other girls or anything like that. I'll be back for you later tonight."

Draco finished off the last of his fire-whiskey. "Crabbe, Goyle." They trotted obediently over to stand in front of him. "My girl here is a bit frisky. Please escort her to our _special_ room and stand guard outside the door. Make sure nobody goes in or out. Got it?"

They grunted in response. Draco the button on his pants and gestured for Pansy to get up. She did, with some difficulty because of her stuck wrists. Draco stood up. A quick but very unchaste kiss planted on her lips, Draco turned and headed for the door. Noticing Zabini pulling both girls up the stairs, he winked at Pansy. "See you tonight!"


End file.
